Cats With Sleeves
by CrazyIndigoChild
Summary: As a kit Mistoffelees was warned against loving a cat with sleeves: you never know what tricks crawl beneath. Real love was a lie he'd watched his mother fall for again and again, he wasn't going to make her mistakes. Is it too late for him then to give into the limitless love Victoria has to offer, or will he cover the heart on his sleeves to keep from falling too hard for a trick


_Never trust a cat with sleeves for they always have a trick up 'em_, Mistoffelees' mother used to say, usually when she was between tomfriends and without anything better to say to account for yet another failed relationship. _And never trust a tom who's quick to smile. A smiley tom is a wily tom._

It didn't help that every git to traipse through her bed was a brooding devil with enough sense to leave his coat at the door. He'd come in chalk full of "Hey, champ!" and "Wow, your mom is somethin' different, eh?" but be gone without word or whisker in a week's time when the heat wore off, leaving Mistoffelees alone with a shattered mother and half of their food and milk missing.

On a fine sunny day, just a few weeks before he became a tom, Mistoffelees' mother called in a favour with Skimbleshanks to have her son learn the ways of "real" toms amongst the Jellicles. Maybe she really thought he'd have a better chance at growing up decent there. Maybe it was the handsome number that had started hanging around the den, talking about a better life and a fresh start beyond the river. Whatever the reason Mistoffelees was sent away with this curiously Scottish tom to a curiously primitive tribe in a curious-smelling junkyard.

And there he met her: a queen that would make his mother proud, one that would make a perfect mate... and one out of him. She was a gorgeous thing in all-white fur, could dance almost as well as his mother, and hung off of him like the devoted little princess she was.

No, it didn't take long for them to grow close; with every illusion he spun and in each long-stemmed flower he conjured their bond grew that much deeper. Love was hunting Mistoffelees down and he was completely defenceless against its delicate scent, those gorgeous brown eyes that drew him in deep, the utter safety of her arms around him.

At least he thought he was.

It wasn't until they'd first started courting that Mistoffelees felt the need, the unquenchable urge to tuck tail and get the heck outta there before she devoured him whole and took everything in him for herself. How was he supposed to keep his soul from melding into this beautiful creature when she devoted every waking moment standing by his side, watching his tricks and laughing at his hit-and-miss jokes, holding him through the hot painful tears of insecurity. Did he even want to keep her away much longer?

Eventually his resolve cracked under a bright July moon when she took him by the paw and told him to leave, to run away and never look back. To start a life somewhere— with someone- he could be happy. She'd given him the out he needed to finally see how much she loved him, and him her. He'd pulled her into him then and held her through the tearless trembling, whispering to her gently that he never wanted to go anywhere she wasn't.

And he smiled.

That was three years ago and now Mistoffelees found himself living out the best years of his life with his daring mate. He doted on her like royalty, let her give him ridiculous pet names, and they celebrated under the full moon where they consummated their oaths to each other at the Jellicle Ball every month since.

"Where do you think you're going?" he teased one morning when she languorously peeled her slim body from his and crawled out from his arms to primp in the big shard of mirror by their nest.

In the dirty reflection of the glass she tossed him a breezy smile and ran her claws through her headfur. Something cold and creeping fluttered inside of him but he pushed it down. "I'm going to the square with Rumpleteazer and Electra. We're going to go visit some queen friends and walk along the canal."

Mistoffelees blinked. He smiled. "I don't remember hearing anything about a visit."

Her face crumpled slightly, making a horrid wilting rose of her nose. "I'm sure I told you the other day. Do you not want me to go?"

"Oh no, Victoria!" he gawked, biting his cheek a bit at the sudden urgency in his voice, "I was just a little surprised. I supposed I could see what Tugger's up to and clean up around here when I've had my fill of him for today."

With a pleased sigh she patted her hip and turned from the mirror to face him, looking adorable as ever in the early morning light that seeped in through their den. How she'd grown cute over the years. "I shouldn't be too long, Mistoffelees, I might be back by lunch. We could go mousing just the two of us."

"That sounds nice," Mistoffelees smiled. At that she crossed to caress and play with his headfur, trying to tame its rebellious wave until Electra and Rumpleteazer crowded the den with their too loud voices and excited squeals at seeing their city friends. She'd given him a quick peck, told him she loved him and that she'd see him for lunch, and disappeared out the thick drape concealing their den. The other queens in tow.

True to his word, Mistoffelees slunk out of their den an hour later in search for his obnoxious pig-headed adversary in junkyard entertainment and best friend, the Rum Tum Tugger. It wasn't terribly hard as the Coon never left his den before noon. Terribly lazy of Tugger, but very very convenient for him; Mistoffelees wasn't feeling especially ready to hunt him down today.

He sat outside a moment, picking at the thick fabric of his jacket and toying with the cufflinks with the tips of his claws. Why was he wearing his jacket? Because it made him feel strong, he felt powerful wearing it? Because Tugger thought it made him look mature, older, and sexy? He laughed at the thought: no one had ever found him sexy, not even his mate, it would be silly to think Tugger wasn't just blowing out hot air.

Yet here he was, again, trying to- what? Impress Tugger? No, he didn't need to impress anybody, especially a crook like Tugger.

Besides he didn't need to impress him when he could control him.

Maybe the jacket did make him feel sexy, strong, _powerful. _If it didn't he wouldn't have been able to storm into Tugger's vanity table den and beeline straight for the back portion where the Coon would be snoring away this perfectly wonderful morning. There wouldn't have been such power and confidence in the pit of his tiny chest when he flipped Tugger onto his back, waiting for him to lazily peek his eye open before demanding he "Get up."

Tugger chuckled but it was cut off with a sharp grunt as Mistoffelees wasted no time in whipping back the blankets and hopping onto his belly. "We don't have a lot of time."

"Awww," Tugger drawled, straining to stretch under Mistoffelees' weight and insistent bouncing. "Is Miss Perfect not giving you a long leash today?"

Slowly, carefully, Mistoffelees leaned forward until his paws were pressing heavily into the maned tom's chest, flattening the golden fur there until Tugger protested with a pointed look and an impatient smirk. "Long enough for me to get what I want."

The golden tom smiled and rolled up to grind them roughly together, feeling the faint hardness growing against his belly. "And what is it you want, exactly, Mistoffelees?" Clearly, by the way the tux's head lolled and tipped forward to half-lidded eyes, it wasn't anything Miss Perf- _Victoria_ could give him.

"Stop talking, for Bast's sake," he gasped and swivelled down to press his growing erection into Tugger's groin biting his lips wantonly as he ground, and soon dragged his paw down Tugger's chest, and roughly stroked his partner down below. "Just rut me, Tug."

Faster than he'd expected Tugger was fully turned on and standing tall between Mistoffelees' legs. With little time to waste the tux grabbed the throbbing member to draw against his aching body until it prodded at him eagerly. Sitting back with a sharp twitch of his hip he took Tugger in fast and hard, gritting his teeth and groaning at the pleasure-pain, the other tom responding with a lusty moan of approval.

Bracing himself with a shaky paw on Tugger's chest Mistoffelees moved fast, already he rocked hard impaling himself again and again with the pent up need and want and guilt he'd been bottling up for what seemed like forever. How long had he been waiting for Victoria to leave him alone so he could taint their matehood with the tribe hustler, be taken roughly by another tom while his queen chatted innocently with her friends thinking she had a faithful mate waiting for her at home? Too long.

He smiled when Tugger's breath hitched and those powerful, flexible hips rocketed back, driving the throbbing heat deeper inside of him. Yes, he'd been awaiting this _much_ too long. "Get... Everlasting, get on top."

As rebellious as the Tugger was notorious for being, he didn't take sweet time in obliging Mistoffelees by upending him with an impressive shove back into the blankets, rocking up onto bony knees to furiously heave into his tight body until Mistoffelees was seeing stars and bursting with carnal moans and screams. "Ye- Oh, Tug... yes!"

So close... he was just so close when the thrusts stopped and he almost sobbed from the horrible ache, vile and burning with need that alone should have finished him off. Tugger panted above him, eyes rolling as he leaned over Mistoffelees' body to run weak paws, cramped from their bone-crushing grip on the other's hips, up the damp fur to tear apart the buttons of Mistoffelees' jacket.

The buttons came off with a few hard tugs and soft popping sounds before clinking about the den. He glared up at Tugger through the impossible gloss of heat. "I don't doubt Victoria's going to wonder about my torn jacket," he groaned in the burn of his gnawing arousal. To be perfectly honest he couldn't give two licks about the jacket right now, it was Tugger's horrible stillness that sparked the growl of frustration deep in his chest where sound never echoed outside his lover's den. Actually, come to think of it, there were a lot of sounds he'd never made apart from his encounters with Tugger. How queer.

"It was... distracting," Tugger panted before pointedly running his hands up Mistoffelees' chest to push the jacket back over small toned shoulders and exposing the white fluffy chest for him to ravage with his tongue. Which is exactly what he did.

The tux yelped and cried at the hard bites on the small nibs of his nipples. "Tugger, _move_!"

A smug grin and the Coon was rearing back for another hard bout of rutting, one that would last a good few thrusts before the was torn down from his perch above Mistoffelees to fall heavily into a hot messy kiss as the tux arched back into his orgasm, ruining the jacket when the musk of their mating spread between them. How was he going to explain _that_ to Victoria?

Tugger pitched against him, pushing them deeper into the sullied blankets. Mistoffelees' eyes went wide at the throaty moan purring into his neck and squirmed to throw the Coon off of him before it was too late. "Tugger, don't!-" Fast paws reached between them to shove against the weakening connection, feeling the hot sticky release pour over his fingers he sighed and slumped back into the blankets. He didn't care how great a liar he was, there was no talking his way out of another tom's _mark_, especially down _there_.

When the two had calmed down enough to peel apart, Mistoffelees eyed the damage on his coat with high hopes and low expectations. Sure enough he was coated in his own scent, though that was fine as he could clean that off with a few good minutes' grooming, and he'd thankfully avoided the strong odour of the Tugger. This time.

He sighed though when he glanced down at his jacket, buttons torn and the fabric ruined with their scents- his on the hem and Tugger's tapering up the sleeves.

_Heh, sleeves,_ he mused and thought about his poor mother who'd died alone and loveless on a desolate autumn night not two years ago._ Nope, nothing up these ones. A whole lot _on_ them, though._

As easily as he'd sauntered into Tugger's home Mistoffelees was showing himself out, cleverly sans his jacket. He figured Tugger could use it as a sort of trophy or memento if he didn't just throw it out or bury it under the clutter of his den.

Did he feel bad about sneaking around behind Victoria's back like this? Sure, he did. That queen loved him like no romance film he'd ever known before- he had a love his mother spent her entire life searching for and never found. Which is maybe why Mistoffelees couldn't take it for himself nor believe it was ever something he'd be worthy of embracing without strings of guilt.

Sleeping with Tugger wouldn't help him come to terms with that love, but what Tugger did do was help him appreciate the fact that, at any given moment, he could lose everything he and Victoria had.

Even if what he had was never something he'd asked for. Or wanted.


End file.
